


Prank Wars

by Shadowheart28



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Humour, Prank War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowheart28/pseuds/Shadowheart28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one should mess with Tony's suits unless they have a death wish. Clint does, Natasha's just in it for the blackmail material, Thor is fascinated by Midgardian customs, Steve's trying to prevent another international disaster, Bruce just wants to be left alone and no one would dare pull anything on Phil Coulson (but someone's gonna try) A one-off prank turns into an all out war between earth's mightiest heroes. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pranks War

**Author's Note:**

> I have a list of pranks to be pulled by the Avengers but would always appreciate more suggestions. And comments. 
> 
> Disclaimer - I do not own any of the Avengers.

'Barton!' Tony Stark hollered, his voice echoing through the high ceilinged halls of the Avengers Tower. 'What the _hell_ did you do to my suit?'

The archer in question glanced up as the irate billionaire stormed into the gym where he was sparring with Natasha - who promptly took advantage of his momentary distraction and clocked him around the jaw.

Clint hit the mat hard as the red-headed agent swept his legs. From his upside-down position on the floor, he grinned at Tony.

'I have no idea what you mean.' His innocent act wasn't fooling anyone.

'The magnets? How did you get at my suit? I know it was you, JARVIS ratted you out.'

'Traitor!' Clint gasped, still grinning like a psycho despite the fact that his sparring partner was currently sitting on his chest.

'It was in my best interests, Clint.' the AI's clipped tone echoed through the room.

'What's going on?' Steve Rogers, his hair mussed from working out, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, strode over.

'I got stuck to a bus.' Tony pouted, crossing his arms. He had levelled a glare at Clint that by all laws of physics should have caused the archer to burst into flames.

'Really?' Natasha had shown mercy and was dusting herself off. One eyebrow raised, the formidable Russian stifled her own smirk.

'C'mon guys, we're supposed to be getting along.' Steve unwrapped the bandages from his wrist. 'You know Fury hates it when he has to make up new paperwork for whatever international incident you've-' Tony raised a disbelieving eyebrow. 'We've managed to create.'

'It was just a bit of fun.' Clint whined. 'How was I supposed to know that he was gonna fly into a bus? It's not like I caught the whole thing on camera...' Natasha bopped him on the head.

'You didn't.' The playboy bunched his fists and Steve put a restraining arm in front of him.

'Tony Stark - from Chick Magnet to Metal Magnet. It's already got seventeen thousand hits!' Barton crowed, still grinning. He was above doing a victory dance, really, he was.

The corner of Natasha's mouth curled up and even Captain America was having trouble stopping his shoulders from shaking.

'So neither of you are going to help me?' Tony growled. 'Fine. Fine! See if I care! I'm going down to MY workshop and NONE OF YOU are allowed in.'

With that, the dark-haired man turned on his heel and stormed back to the lift. He was going to get Barton back. Revenge would be sweet.

                             Natasha, Clint and Steve lasted five seconds before they burst out laughing.

'Do you have to try and kill yourself, Clint, all the time?' Natasha managed between rounds of laughter.

'Every chance I get.'

                                                                                                                  ********************


	2. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets revenge - it's a good thing Clint isn't afraid of heights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated.

It was a good thing that Clint Barton wasn't afraid of heights.

The following morning saw the archer suspended from a support strut of Stark Tower by several wires attached to a harness that he distinctly remembered _not_ putting on the previous night. Come to think of it, he didn't really remember falling asleep -everything after dinner seemed a little blurry.

Anyway, all of these thoughts flashed through his mind before he really registered where he was - several hundred metres over the busy morning traffic of New York City.

He had two options; cut himself loose - it wouldn't be hard, Clint had been in several rappel-harness incidents that he didn't care to think about it. But if he cut himself loose, there was a chance that he could end up falling - then it would be _splat!_ squished Hawkeye.

Option two; wait until someone came to let him go. That was probably the safest course of action but would no doubt end in - more - humiliation on his part.

He was going to _murder_ Stark.

As if on cue, maniacal laughter came from somewhere above him. _Speak of the devil,_ Clint thought darkly. He was going to kill him. Clint's homicidal thoughts must have shown on his face because Tony interrupted his plotting with a laugh.

'There are no weapons on you.' the arrogant billionaire chuckled, 'I disarmed you right after you conked out and you're not Natasha - you can't kill someone with a tissue.'

'Conked out?' he ground out, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of him. 'What did you...damn.' It hit him, the reason he had been feeling so fuzzy last night.

'Bruce helped me perfect it, strongest sleeping drug outside of a military facility.' And damn him, he could _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

'I am going to kill you, Stark. Does Steve know you've done this?' A momentary look of concern crossed Tony's face but it was quickly covered by a devil-may-care smirk.

'If he did, you wouldn't be dangling from the building. Anyway, the good Captain doesn't control me.' There was a gentle breeze and Clint was now swinging slightly. The wires twisted and he spun round, face to face with Natasha and Thor. The former, camera in hand, was happily snapping away, a look of amused superiority on her beautiful face. A single raised eyebrow was all the acknowledgement he got that she cared about his reaction. Thor was grinning crazily and Clint groaned inwardly - it was the grin that only made an appearance when the Asgardian was particularly looking forward to trying some new Midgardian 'pastime.' They did not need Thor getting involved in pranks as it would only result in more problems for Pepper and Coulson. And Fury. Fury would not be impressed if they tried to explain the structural damage to Stark Tower as one blonde, buff demigod's attempt to pull a prank. There was definately not paperwork for _that_ \- and he knew just how much Coulson hated making up new paperwork for each and every 'incident' that they came up with.

Barton only noticed Banner when Natasha beckoned for him to come over. The doctor was smiling slightly as he handed the red-headed agent a tablet. Her full lips parted into a face-splitting grin - a truly rare occurrence from Natasha - as she turned the tablet so that he could see. On screen, a live newsfeed showed himself dangling from the roof. Damn, he had forgotten about the cameras on the outside of the building - just one of the many upgrades Stark had made to the Tower after the invasion.

Closing his eyes and counting to ten, Clint resisted the urge to just cut himself loose and end it. Hitting the pavement would be considerably less painful than the verbal bashing that he was going to receive when he got down.

From now on, he was going to do a tox screen on everything he ate or drank, right down to the chewing gum.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught attention. Steve Rogers was striding towards the Avengers in the Tower with Phil Coulson right behind him. The blonde super-soldier had his pissed-off face on, the face he reserved for Nazis and alien armies and the occasional pack of Doombots that Dr Doom decided to set on some poor, unsuspecting city.

Glancing up, Clint saw that the genius was still grinning, pleased with the outcome of his plan.

'You're in trouble now, Stark.'

'You're the one suspended from the tower.'

'Yeah, but I'm not about to be the proud recipient of a lecture from Captain America.' Tony Stark went from amused to worried so fast that Clint wished he had Natasha's camera on him.

'Don't care.'

'Aww, but you two get on so well.' Tony glared at him.

'I tolerate Steve, barely. And just for that, you get to stay here for the rest of the day.'

'I'll cut myself loose.'

'You do that. I don't-'

'Tony!' Steve had reached the landing pad that he was standing on.

'Damn.'


	3. Switched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is up
> 
> Reviews and comments are appreciated.

As soon as he swallowed his first bite of dinner, Tony knew that something was wrong. There was a peppery, almost metallic taste that definitely did not belong in cherry pie, not in the least. But most worrying of all, it was a taste that he’d begun to associate with magic. Damn Asgardians and their technology. Slowly, he pushed his plate away and glanced around the room, his eyes darting from one team-member to the other.

Clint was inhaling his food, which was normal for Clint, and Bruce was reading some lab report and barely paying attention to what he was putting in his mouth, which was normal for Bruce. The only indication that something was wrong was the entirely-too-pleased grin that Thor was giving the room in general. Steve had noticed it too.

‘Thor…’ Tony began slowly, because when the demigod had that look, something usually went badly wrong. ‘When you made this pie, did you happen to put anything, uh, extra in it?’ Clint froze mid-swallow, his fork hovering just in front of his face. The blonde god’s grin got even wider.

‘Of course not! I followed the list of requirements to the letter! The Lady Natasha helped me!’ Steve had cottoned on and had buried his face in his palms. Clint was placing his fork down on his plate with all the due care of a pipe bomb. Thor could not lie, it went against his nature.

‘The truth, Thor.’ Bruce looked like death warmed over.

I do not know what you mean, Doctor Banner. I only wished to provide my friends with a hearty meal-‘

‘Thor,’ there was a dangerous edge to Clint’s voice. He trusted Natasha more than anyone – she was his sparring partner, his backup and closest confidante, but when she started messing with his food, his base instinct was to run and hide. ‘What was in the pie?’

‘It was just a simple switching spell, it does not last long.’ The blonde man shrugged. ‘I wanted to join in with the Midguardian custom of ‘pranking.’ Lady Natasha was most kind and happily agreed to help me.’ The pleased grin was back and the red-headed agent in question took that moment to enter the kitchen. Her smile was wide, bright and terrifying.

‘Natasha.’ Steve looked vaguely horrified, having just realised what a switching spell might ensue. ‘We aren’t supposed to do any more pranks, Coulson said-‘

‘Cap,’ Clint cut in. ‘Since when have any of us, other than you, listened to Coulson’s lectures? This is how the international incidents happen, every time.’

‘Yes, but-‘ For the second time, Steve was cut off.

‘Am I the only one who cares that we have just been magically _drugged_?’ Tony was on his feet now and seriously considering doing something drastic, like kicking them all out. Honestly, he didn’t need any more goddamn magic in his tower.

‘’Tis nothing to worry about.’ Thor placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Children on Asgard often perform it for fun. The effects only last half a day.’

‘At least it’s not days.’ Bruce was also on his feet. ‘But-‘ It was then that Tony stopped listening because at that moment in time a cold, tingly feeling was starting to spread throughout his body.

‘What the…’ The room was starting to spin and no, that was not good. It wasn’t good when caused by too much alcohol and it was most definitely not good when caused by some Asgardian magic. Muttering threats under his breath, Tony attempted to make it to the bar in the living room because he had learned that the best way to deal with magic was to have a drink and pray that it was over by the time that he had woken up.

Two steps later, darkness engulfed his vision.

                                                                               ************

Blinking sleepily, Tony attempted to clear some of the fogginess from his vision. A shock of red hair hovered in his line of vision

A few more blinks confirmed that the hair belonged to Natasha, who was currently holding a glass of water and trying to stifle a smirk. She muttered something in Russian before adjusting on of the pillows behind his head.

Tony recognised the ceiling of the main room and everything came back at him in a rush.

‘Bruce or Tony?’ the spy’s tone was full of saccharine sweetness that he instantly mistrusted.

‘What the hell? Where is Thor? I am going to kill that guy. I don’t care if he is a demigod, my bots are the only ones who are allowed to mess with my food.’ His voiced sounded smoother, old-fashioned, almost like…

‘Tony it is then.’ Natasha handed him a glass of water, helping him to take a sip.

‘Has Tony woken up yet?’

The engineer froze. Nononono. This was not happening. Barton was NOT in his body. This was a horrible joke and Thor had been kidding when he’d said that he’d drugged them. He sat bolt upright and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa.

Vertigo hit him like a tonne of bricks. He tried to steady himself on the coffee table but found it a lot further away than usual.

‘Damn.’ He ran his hands through his hair and found, yep, it was gelled into place – stark contrast to his perpetually messy ‘do.

The most concerning part was seeing himself across the room. Clint-as-Tony was perched on the arm of the sofa opposite, shirtless, and currently in the middle of inspecting his new body.

‘You’re so uncoordinated.’ The archer complained, twisting to try and see his own back.

‘No.’ Tony strode over to the smaller man – damn, since when was Clint shorter than him? ‘No. This cannot be happening.’ He turned to Thor, who was grinning over by one of the windows. ‘Fix this. Now.’

‘Steve Rogers suits you.’ Barton was grinning like a maniac and prodding the Arc Reactor. ‘Man, this thing is freaky.’

He was Steve Rogers. That was a disconcerting thought and one that he most definitely didn’t want to contemplate at that time.

‘Leave that alone.’ he snapped, reaching to slap his own hand away from his chest. Well, he tried to anyway. Since Steve’s body was so much bigger than what he was used to, his coordination was off and he missed spectacularly – sending everything on the coffee table flying. Mugs, files and packets of pop-tarts went everywhere.

Closing his eyes, he didn’t bother moving from his position on the floor.

‘Kill me now.’

                                                                  *************

Natasha Romanov surveyed the scene around her. Clint-as-Tony attempted to shoot at the bottles of booze he had lined up on the bar –unsuccessfully- while Tony-as-Steve tried to remove said bottles of booze and fell over every available piece of furniture in the process. The differences between their usual forms and their current forms were staggering and it was painfully clear.

Bruce-as-Clint had given up lecturing Thor several hours ago and was holed up in his lab. He had left the room muttering some very un-Bruce-like things about gods and their technology. Meanwhile, Steve-as-Bruce looked as if he was considering throwing himself out of the window. 

And the whole thing had occurred without a single drop of alcohol. She regretted nothing.

Everything was caught on camera, Coulson hadn’t found out and this was far more interesting than any of the movies that any of the boys picked for movie night.

She was pulled from her revere by Clint, who had given up on the bow and arrows and had pulled a deck of cards from god-knows-where.

The man had stashes all over the tower, and she knew where each and every one of them was. He kept various things in them; clothes, weapons, food, DVD’s. One was even filled with key-chains that he had collected from different missions. He was like a squirrel, but she knew not to mess with them – Clint kept a lot of things private. That was why they got on so well, they both respected each other’s personal space and although they both knew everything about the other, it was an unwritten law that they never, ever brought it up.

Natasha grinned inwardly and slipped her camera into the palm of her hand. She might as well enjoy this insanity while it lasted.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint paused in the doorway to catch his breath. If Natasha caught him sneaking around her bedroom at two in the morning, there’d be Hell to pay. She was going to kill them all in the morning as it was.

He waited until he was entirely sure that the Russian agent was asleep before carefully pulling the bottles from one of the pockets on his vest. Then, silently, he crept over to the adjoining bathroom.

Once inside, the archer quickly emptied the contents of Natasha’s frizz-control shampoo and conditioner down the sink, careful not to let any touch the rim of the drain. Within minutes, he had successfully filled the bottles with a very different type of hair care product. With a sly grin, Clint slipped silently from the en suite and back to his own room, being careful to initiate the security protocols that protected his space.

He wouldn’t put it past Natasha to try and get him back while he slept.

Getting into Thor’s room had been easy enough – the guy slept like a log. Not to mention the fact that his snores would cover up the sound of an elephant breaking into his room.

 

 

The next morning at breakfast, Clint’s senses were on high alert. Natasha hadn’t appeared yet so it would only be a matter of time before-

‘Barton.’ The agent’s voice was low and dangerous, her gaze as sharp as broken glass. A feral snarl curled the corner of her mouth as she stalked towards him, her hand inching closer and closer to the knife she kept strapped to her thigh at all times.

Behind him, Clint could hear the rest of the team trying to hold back their laughter with various degrees of success. Even Bruce was struggling to stop a smile from creeping over his face.

His prank had turned out better than he had hoped – the volumizing shampoo he had swapped Natasha’s usual hair products for had done its job.

The Russian agent’s hair was a bird’s nest and it looked as if she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Her scarlet locks stood almost vertical and it seemed as if no amount of anything would fix it. Already, several curls had captured a brush and didn’t look like they were going to let it go anytime soon.

Ever so slowly, Clint began backing away and attempted to hide behind Steve.

‘Cap, help me.’ he stage-whispered and Natasha stalked closer. His knight in shining armour just grinned and shook his head.

‘No way. You got yourself into this mess.’

Natasha chose to use his moment of distraction to her full advantage and leapt towards the archer. Clint made a very undignified squeaking noise as he scrambled away, but the agent was faster.

Within seconds, Natasha had pinned Clint to the countertop. She had pulled a knife from god-knows-where and currently had the blade pressed against his jugular. He gulped and felt the cold steel bite into his skin.

The red-headed agent muttered furiously in Russian and Clint could make out enough of it to fear for his life – and his manhood. By this point, Tony was laughing so hard that orange juice came out his nose, Steve was attempting to calm Natasha down and Bruce was studiously ignoring the lot of them – his noise-cancelling headphones clamped to his ears. But everything stopped when Thor walked into the room and even Natasha ceased her threats to stare open-mouthed at the sight that the Norse god presented.

‘What the hell, Thor?’

Clint’s prank had turned out perfectly. The god stood in the doorway, a beatific grin on his face. Thor’s hair was a light enough shade of blonde that he hadn’t even had to bleach it to dye it electric pink.

‘What? It is a most becoming shade for fearsome warrior.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Tony was grinning from ear-to-ear, snapping away with his latest StarkPhone. ‘But it is brilliant. Clint, I salute you.’

The archer smirked and mock-saluted the billionaire.

‘Why?’ Steve had closed his eyes and was clutching a spoon so hard that the metal bent.

‘They deserved it.’ And Clint really wished he hadn’t answered because the sound of his voice brought Natasha’s attention back to him.

He knew better than to fight back and right now, his sparring partner had one knee pressed on his groin and goddamnit hurt.

‘I’m not sure there’s paperwork for this.’ Phil Coulson’s clipped tone interrupted the general chaos that was happening in the Avengers’ kitchen.

Thor was posing for pictures with Tony, Bruce was reading over a lab report that was balanced on Clint’s leg, the archer seemed as if he was trying not to laugh and/or cry, Steve was trying to supress a grin and Natasha looked entirely capable of ten sorts of mayhem.

‘I don’t know why I have to deal with this.’ Coulson poured himself a cup of coffee from the decanter. ‘I thought I relayed Fury’s message of no more pranks. Pepper has enough to deal with without having to field inquiries from the press regarding Stark flying into buses and one of my agents dangling from the roof of Stark Tower.’

‘Yeah, well…’ Tony smirked, lounging against the counter. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You know Fury hates it when one of you gets injured out of the field.’ he sighed with a pointed glance at Natasha. The agent merely raised an eyebrow and pressed her knee down harder. Clint whimpered.

‘I will attempt to keep everyone alive, sir.’ JARVIS said. ‘Thank you JARVIS, but I am at loathe to trust anything that Stark had built. Tony pouted.

‘Hey!’

‘Try not to kill one another.’ Were the senior agent’s parting words. Thor’s voice boomed over the general din.

‘Steven, why do we not dye your hair to match? It would be most befitting for a warrior of your calibre.’ Steve blanched.

‘Damn you Clint.’


	5. Author's Note

Sorry that I haven't been able to update in a long time, I have other projects and school work right now so I don't know when the next chapter will be up.


	6. Author's Note 2

This story will be on hiatus for an unknown period of time.


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